Her husband, who is on the staff of a morning newspaper, was breakfasting when I arrived.

He is a great ruddy bearded giant with a rumbling thunder of a laugh like the bass notes of an organ.

His assertion of the masculine principle in brawn and beard and bass somewhat overpowers a non-muscular, clean-shaven, and tenor person like myself.

Mrs.McMurray, on the contrary, is a small, bright bird of a woman.
I told my amazing story from beginning to end, interrupted by many Hoo-oo-oo-oo's from McMurray.
"You may laugh," said I, "but to have a mythical being out of Olympiodorus quartered on you for life is no jesting matter." "Olymp-- ?" began McMurray.
"Yes," I snapped.
"Bring her this afternoon, Sir Marcus, when this unsympathetic wretch has gone to his club," said his wife, "and I'll take her out shopping." "But, dear lady," I cried in despair, "she has but one garment--and that a silk dressing-gown of horrible depravity that belonged to a dancer of the second Empire! She is also barefoot." "Then I'll come round myself and see what can be done." "And by Jove, so will I!" cried McMurray.
"You'll do such thing," said his wife "If I gave you a cheque for 100," said I, "do you think you could get her what she wants, to go on with ?" "A hundred pounds!" The little lady uttered a delighted gasp and I thought she would have kissed me.

McMurray brought his sledgehammer of a hand down on my shoulder.
"Man!" he roared.